Page 4 of Thief of the Ton
What might it be like to make love? Would she moan with pleasure like Lady Francis?
Lady Betty said that to make love was the most wonderful experience in the world—that the act elicited such delicious sensations that a person believed, for a moment, they might die of ecstasy. But she had also warned Lavinia that for the woman to experience pleasure, she needed a skilled man—one who took as much joy inherpleasure as his.
She’d also warned Lavinia that, for a woman, the danger lay in giving a man her heart as well as her body. But there was no danger of Lavinia giving her heart to any man. Her heart had been lost years ago—to the boy who had once called her his little Guinevere.
But he was long gone, his face blurred over time, until all she could recall was the intense expression in those clear hazel eyes.
They were the eyes of the boy she’d idolized as a child, desired in her adolescent dreams…
…and, as a young woman, had fallen in love with.
But, in all likelihood, he’d forgotten that she ever existed.
Chapter Two
Fourteen years earlier, Sussex, August 1800
“Why must weleave, Papa?”
Lavinia kicked out in an attempt to break free, but the footman held her firm and carried her toward the carriage.
“Lavinia, nothing will prevent us from leaving Fosterley Park today,” Papa said. “It’s no longer our home. Surely you must understand?”
“No, I don’t! I want to go back!”
“Be quiet, or I’ll thrash you!” Papa roared. “Put her inside the carriage, Brannigan, and make sure she stays there. You’re at liberty to use force, if necessary.”
A shiver of fear rippled through her. Despite her mischief-making, Papa had never before threatened to raise his hand to her.
She went limp while the footman bundled her into the carriage. Two more footmen marched across the gravel drive, carrying a trunk, which contained all she had left in the world. She hadn’t even been able to say goodbye to Samson, her rocking horse, because Samson no longer belonged to them.
Not even Millie was there—Lavinia had woken that morning to be told that her nursemaid had been dismissed and she must learn to dress herself.
Why was Papa being so unkind, sounfeeling?
He stood beside the carriage, talking to his steward in hushed tones, but when Lavinia tried to lean out of the carriage to hear, the footman pushed her back.
“You’re not to leave, miss. Remember what his lordship said.”
She pushed her lower lip out—an action that had often melted Millie’s heart. But the footman stared back, his expression impassive.
It was sounfair!
Eventually, Papa shook hands with the steward, then climbed into the carriage, and they set off.
As they rolled away from the building, Lavinia noticed a number of people—servants and tenants—stop and stare. Some of the men removed their caps and bowed their heads, as if they were in church.
Papa stared out of the window, his mouth set in a grim line. Then he glanced toward Lavinia, as if he’d only just noticed her presence.
She opened her mouth to speak, and Papa lifted his hand.
“Lavinia, don’t.”
“But Papa, I only wanted to ask—”
“That’s enough,” he said. “Please.”
Her stomach clenched at his plea, the quiet, weak tone unsettling her more than his words of anger.
